Against The Odds
by TantalumCobolt
Summary: 'May the odds be ever in your favour'. The words that come once a year, bringing death, despair and joy. But they mean something different for one girl. Annie Cresta sees a special meaning in the words, the words that somehow managed to end her life, and start it at the same time. Follow her journey through life and the Hunger Games, beginning with those eight magic words.
1. Prologue

**AN: Hey! This is my first story for the Hunger Games fandom so it's probably not perfect – or even close. I was hit by this idea late last night and typed it up quickly. I know that this first chapter is extremely short, but it's only the prologue. Hopefully chapter one will be up by the end of the day.**

**Happy reading, and please leave me a review with your thoughts!**

**-TaCo**

* * *

"_Happy hunger games, and may the odds be _ever _in your favour!"_

I still remember those words, it's hard not to. They were the words that ruined my life for ever, but at the same time gave me something to fight for, something to _live_ for.

They're the words that are heard by everyone in Panem once a year. The words that some people dread to hear, and others wait with barely concealed excitement to hear.

For some people they bring joy; sick, twisted joy, but joy none the less. For others, they bring nothing except sadness and despair.

I didn't much care for the words, not until I turned fifteen. I entered the reaping at the age of twelve, the same as any other child, but it never meant anything until my fourth year. I wasn't confident, I wasn't arrogant, I just didn't believe it was possible for my name to be picked out of the hundreds from District 4.

On the day of the reaping for the 68th annual Hunger Games, when I was fifteen, my perspective changed.

That year the words meant fear, and sadness, and most importantly, death. That year the words meant someone would die, as the they did every year. But that year, they meant it was my brother. For the first time I acknowledged the words for what they truly meant, for what I _believed _they truly meant. _They meant death._

It didn't take long for my opinion of the words to change though. Two years later the words gained a new meaning.

The day of the reaping for the 70th annual Hunger Games ended with me, Annie Cresta, as a tribute. At that moment I had know idea what the words would come to mean, what they would come to stand for. And above everything else, what they would begin.

Now I look back and think of that day, _of those words_. The words that mean so much, and so little. The words that could mean the end, or the beginning. The words that are so special to me...

_Because they brought me Finnick._


	2. The Reaping

Chapter 1 - The Reaping

**Annie's POV**

It's a beautiful day in District 4. The sun is just beginning to rise, it's golden rays reflecting off the smooth, calm ocean. Usually fisherman would be leaving at this time for a day of fishing, but not today. Nobody is out on the beach enjoying the day. An air of dread hangs over everyone and fear lurks in the shadows. Children especially are scarred, nervous or worried. Some all three, because today two of them, one boy and one girl, will be chosen as tributes.

I try not to think about this as I walk along the beach. My footprints are imprinted in the sand as I walk on the water's edge, only to be washed away by the water moments later. It reminds me of the tributes for the games. They are carved into the brains of people for the duration of the games, and then erased from memory, forgotten, merely a few weeks later. The only exceptions are the victors. The one person lucky enough to win the games will never forget the faces of the people they killed, nor the people they watched die.

I've been told that representing my district is an honour and I should take pride in being a tribute. I should try my hardest to win so that I can have the privilege of being a victor. I don't want to be a tribute though, not because I'm afraid of dying or killing, but because I'm afraid of winning. Being a victor isn't a privilege, it's a curse. But the Capital has to have their victor, because without a victor there would be no hope.

"Annie!"

My thoughts are broken by my mother calling my name and I turn to see her waving to me from the end of the beach.

"Annie Cresta!" she calls again. "Come back here right now, the reaping starts in an hour!"

I glance at the sun, which is now much higher in the sky, and realise that almost two hours have passed while I've been lost in my thoughts. With a sigh I slowly make my way back to her and as soon as I'm within arms reach she grabs my arm, practically dragging me back to our home.

We live in a small, weatherboard house on the edge of the beach. At one stage the outside was a light blue but over time it has faded and now the colour is a dull grey. There are only two bedrooms, one bathroom, a kitchen, a living room and a small tin shed out the back. It's nothing fancy, but it's perfect for my family. There are only four of us; my mother, my father, my younger sister, and myself.

When we enter the house mum pushes me towards my bedroom, ordering me to _hurry up and get dressed! _I do so in a daze and then return to my mother in the kitchen. She motions for me to sit at the table and then stands behind me to do my hair. Her deft fingers quickly braid the strands together and then pin it on top of my head. Once she is finished I am allowed to look in the mirror.

My chocolate brown hair is twisted into a bun on top of my head and a few ringlets hang down, framing my face. I am wearing a strapless, pale turquoise dress that falls to my knees.

"You look beautiful Annie," my little sister, Melanie, compliments me.

I turn to look at her, pasting a grin on my face for her benefit. "You look beautiful as well, my little Melody,"

Melanie gives a small smile, nervously playing with the hem of her dress. I know she's worried about the reaping, what child wouldn't be? I don't give her useless, and most likely untrue, though. Instead, I pull her into a quick hug.

"I won't get picked, will I Annie?" she asks into my shoulder.

"I don't know, Mel," I whisper. "I hope not."

All too soon our father calls us as it is time to leave. I take Melanie's hand as we leave the house and she holds onto me with a vice-like grip. Her name is only in the reaping bowl three times as she is fourteen, but I am seventeen so my name is in there six times. Even though I don't want to think about it I am very aware that the odds aren't in my favour.5

* * *

The main square of District 4 is crowded with people when we arrive. My parents hug Melanie and I one last time before moving to stand with the other parents. We get into the long line of girls, have our fingers pricked, and are shepherded off to our roped of sections. I think the whole process is much like how they would treat the cattle in District 10.

Everyone is watching the stage, waiting with impatience and dread for the reaping. Impatience for it to be over, and dread of having your name selected. The mayor is standing at the podium, waiting for silence so he can begin. Our district escort, Laela Pierce, sits behind him on the right. Our escort is odd, although, from what I've seen on television, she's normal by capital standards. Her hair is blonde with vibrant blue streaks in it, tied up in a fancy bun on top of her head. Personally, I think that the blue clashes with her bright green hair, but I'm not a fashion expert.

The last people on the stage are the victors. Finnick Odair, the glorious capital puppet, sits on the end with an old woman, Mags, to his left, and another man beside her, but I've forgotten his name. Mags is talking quietly to the man beside her and Finnick is gazing around at everyone, occasionally winking or waving at a camera. His eyes move towards my area and I turn away. I don't want to look at his perfectly sculpted face and shining, golden hair. I don't see what's so special about him, almost everyone in District 4 has blonde hair and blue/green eyes.

The mayor rescues me from thoughts of Finnick by beginning his speech. "Welcome, citizens of District 4, to the reaping of the 70th Annual Hunger Games!"

He steps back and a video of the uprising and the beginning of the games plays. It's the same every year. Maybe they think we've forgotten it? Or maybe they remind us every year to prevent a rebellion? I mentally snort, as if the games themselves weren't a good enough reminder!

Once the video finishes Laela steps up to the microphone. "Ladies first!" she announces.

Unconsciously, I hold my breath as she struts across the stage and reaches into the glass bowl full of slips. Her long nails dance across the pieces of paper before finally grabbing one. Seconds pass as she moves back to the microphone and unfolds the slip. It seems to take for ever, although it could have been no more than a minute in total. Everyone is frozen, waiting for the name that will mean an end or another day.

_Please don't be me. Please don't be me. Pl-_

"Annie Cresta!"

My brow furrows slightly. That name sounds familiar – oh, right. It's my name. Which means... I'm a tribute! I feel hysteria bubble inside of me and I squash it down, slowly moving through the group of girls who have parted for me. Peacekeepers appear at my side and escort me to the stage. Once there I stumble up the steps and stand beside Laela, who is looking very excited.

"No for the boys!" she trills in her silly Capital accent.

I'm frozen in place, barely hearing or seeing anything as I stare into the crowd. My eyes lock with Melanie's and I can't look away. An expression of horror seems to be carved onto her face, but another emotion lurks in the depths of her eyes. Relief. Relief that even if I die she will continue to live. Relief because I'm older and she thinks I have more chance of survival. Relief that it was me who was chosen and not her.

My attention snaps back to the present when someone appears beside me. The boy tribute. I missed his name when I zoned out.

"Shake hands," Laela instructs.

He reaches out and grasps my hand, shaking it firmly before dropping it. Then we are whisked away from the eyes of the public and led into rooms in the Justice Building where we'll say goodbye to our friends and families. The room is bare, only furnished with an uncomfortable lounge. There are no windows and I feel suffocated as I am pushed inside and the door is locked behind me. I gingerly sit on the lounge and wait.

I'm not sure how long has passed when the door is flung open and my parents enter the room. Immediately the embrace me in a hug, murmuring useless words into my hair as they cry. I don't move though, I just sit there, barely acknowledging their existence. I feel bad for it, but I know that if I focus on them I'll break down. So we stay like that. My parents hugging me, crying, while I stare at the wall behind their heads. All too soon the peacekeepers appear in the doorway and tell us that time is up. My parents are dragged from the room and I immediately regret the way I treated them.

"Annie?"

A soft voice draws my attention to Melanie, who is standing just inside the room, as though she is ready to flee at any time. I try to smile at her, to reassure her that everything will be alright. But I can't, I won't. I've never lied to my sister and I'm not going to begin now, not when I could die within a week. So I just stand up and open my arms. Melanie understands and almost runs to embrace me in a hug. Tears stream down her face, soaking my dress. She only cries for a moment though, then she pulls back from the hug and wipes her tears away.

"Just try Annie."

I stare at her in shock. "Of course I'll try to win Melody!"

She shakes her head. "No, Annie. Don't try win, try not to change."

I'm baffled by her words but I don't get a chance to ask her what she means as she slips out of the room when peacekeepers come to tell us time is up. As I have no more visitors they lead me from the room and out of the building where I get into the car that will take me to the train station.

The car is more fancy than anything I've ever seen. It has cream leather seats and tinted windows so people can't look inside. Peacekeepers guard the doors, to prevent people from getting in just as much as to prevent me from escaping. Soon the boy tribute – I still don't know what his name is – is lead from the building. He climbs in and the car drives off as soon as the door slams shut behind him.

* * *

The station is crowded with reporters, friends and families who are desperate to catch one last glimpse – or photo in the case of the reporters – of us before we get on the train. The flashes almost blind me and I feel myself shrinking away from the attention.

"Stand tall and smile," a voice murmurs in my ear.

I try to glance over my shoulder to see who it is but the person places a hand on my back and propels me forward. I stand taller and paste a smile on my face, although I think that everyone will be able to tell it's fake. The hand leaves my back as we reach the train and climb on board. I'm so relieved to be away from all the attention and the smile immediately drops off my face.

"Good job, gorgeous," the voice murmurs again.

I around and find myself face to face with none other than Finnic Odair. Upon realising who it was I turn away quickly and step away. He laughs quietly and I feel anger flare up inside of me. How dare he! How dare he touch me without my permission! How dare he laugh at me! The fury burns inside me and I know I have to get away. The only problem is that I'm in a narrow hallway with Finnick blocking one side and a door leading to the dining cart on the other. I either have to squeeze past Finnick or join everyone else in the dining cart when I only want to be alone.

Sighing in defeat I turn and open the door to enter the dining cart.

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**AN: Sorry it's late! I didn't edit this so any mistakes are mine. SPeaking of editing... If anyone wants to beta my HG fics I would really appreciate it!**

**This chapter is dedicated to the amazing Justrockzyxxx who was my _only _reviewer!**

**Hopefully there will be more reviews for this chapter!**

**Until next time,**

**-TaCo**


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